


A love like fire

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9093649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: Shaw plucked the gun out of her fingers and set it back in the cabinet (in the wrong place, but Root moved it back to where it should be without commenting). “We need to talk about this...thing that’s going on. Between us.”
“You mean the ‘thing’ where you take down bad guys and I fail at pretending I don't find it hot?”
“Yeah.” Shaw clasped and unclasped her hands, looking down at her feet. “The thing where I cycle the whole way across New York and pretend it was for the mission.”
Asexual!Root





	

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: 6741 and brief internalised acephobia at the end.

“You should know that torture almost never produces good information. Well. Almost never.” Root tested the temperature of the iron with one finger and, deeming it satisfactory, knelt down in front of Shaw and unzipped her hoodie.

Yet the look in this woman’s eyes was not what Root was used to. Shaw was what could only be described as cocky, like she knew something Root didn't. 

Which was impossible since Root had read her file twice and knew all about Shaw’s diagnosis with an axis ii personality disorder, colourful career path and particularly impressive skill set. But none of that did justice to the woman sat in front of her. Breathtaking, in a word. It would be a shame to ruin such beauty with something so vulgar.

Looking at the iron with something akin to distaste, Root said, “I really don't want to hurt you. I read your file and I’m kind of a big fan.” 

“Something I left out of my file,” said Shaw with a wicked glint in her eye as she noticed the iron. “I kind of enjoy this sort of thing.”

Root smiled and leaned in closer to her. “I am so glad you said that. It would be a shame for me to have wasted my time if you don't tell me the name of this contact.”

She was about to begin, iron inches away from Shaw’s skin, when her phone buzzed, causing her to look over in irritation. “Just when we were starting to really connect.” She set the iron down and stood to check her phone. The screen showed grainy footage of some armed men walking through the lobby towards her. She needed to go right away to avoid being caught.

Gathering her belongings, Root stole one last glance at Shaw on her way out. “Little rude, I know. But we will do this again soon.”

*

“What's the package?” Shaw asked while looking around the CIA safehouse like a cutlery set was about to materialise out of thin air.

Root opened a drawer with one hand and gestured to its contents with the other. “I am.” At Shaw's cocked eyebrow she clarified, “It's a people trafficking operation, and the only way to stop it is to get inside.”

“So the hood and zipties are for when you are…”

“Picked up at eight am tomorrow.” Root closed the drawer and resumed her position sat on the table with her feet on the chair and rested her chin on her palms, watching Shaw interestedly. “What are your views on artificial intelligence?”

Shaw looked over at her with her head slightly tilted to one side and a frown of confusion bordering on annoyance. “What?”

“Do you think they are capable of developing their own beliefs and opinions?”

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly. “Why are you asking me about this?”

Shrugging, Root said, “We have ten hours to kill and it seemed like an appropriate conversational topic. If you don't want to talk about that I am also very knowledgeable on technology, AI theory and philosophy.”

Shaw pulled another chair out and collapsed into it. “Aren't all of those basically extensions of the same thing?”

“Kind of, although technology focusses more on the concrete aspe-”

“Never mind, sorry I asked.”

Root shifted slightly closer to Shaw. “Well what _do_ you want to do?”

“Not listen to you talk, for a start.” She folded her arms and rested one foot on her opposite knee. “We can't watch TV because, unless the CIA are willing to pay for premium package deals, there will only be three useless channels and I’m guessing we can't order food in case that blows our cover, which doesn't leave us a whole lot of options.”

“You're right,” Root said as she looked sadly around the minimally decorated room. “We could always play rock paper scissors.”

“Unless…” Shaw’s gaze found the drawer and she cracked a little grin. “You want to have some fun with those zipties.”

Root calmly held up one hand. “That won't be happening.” She remembered Shaw saying how she enjoyed that sort of thing and tried to think if she had said something to imply she did too.

Apart from a slight twitch of her eyebrows, Shaw didn't show any reaction at all. “OK.”

Root stood up and walked over to the sofa. “You can have the bed.” Without looking to see how Shaw reacted, she lay down and closed her eyes.

*

“Ooh, he’s hot.” Root’s tone was flirtatious as she held a picture of their number Tomas Koroa in her hands. “Not who I’d go for personally but...I kinda get it.” She tossed the picture onto Harold’s desk and sat down, propping her feet up. 

“Root,” Shaw said tightly over the phone line with barely suppressed anger. “What the hell are you doing?”

Unable to resist a smile, Root replied, “Harold wanted me off the streets for a while after my latest brush with Samaritan, so I thought I’d help keep an ear on you.” She plugged her cochlear implant into the computer so she could eavesdrop with both ears and stood Tomas’s picture up against the monitor. “He is a dangerous criminal after all and I just couldn't bear it if anyone hurt you. Against your will, anyway.”

There was a second of silence during which Root mentally inserted Shaw rolling her eyes, then she heard her say quietly, “So what do you need me for?”

“I can think of several things,” replied a male voice with the slightest trace of an accent that had to belong to Tomas. He is tone was intimate and seductive, making Root’s skin crawl.

Root shook her head disdainfully. “Hm, subtle.”

Shaw said, “I’ll bet. But for now let’s just keep this professional. Now, I'm willing to guess that last night's job was a test to check the N.Y.P.D.'s response time which means -” she lowered her voice “- that you have something bigger lined up.”

“See, now that was subtle.” Root was grinning. She recognised Shaw flirting when she heard it, and wasn't surprised that her girl had so much more game than this Tomas character. She knew there was a chance Shaw would hook up with him, but her and Shaw had come so far and been in so many life-or-death situations together that it would be impossible for him to mean as much to her as Root did. Not to mention, it was all for the mission.

“So are you ready for another score?” Shaw asked enticingly.

Root frowned, “That, not so much.”

*

Root was alphabetizing the weapons cabinet in the subway car when Shaw kind of half-entered, stepped back a bit then settled for standing awkwardly in the doorway while playing with her sleeve.

It was just the two of them in the batcave, since Shaw was on house arrest after her cover had been blown a few days ago and Root had offered to act as tech support in order to stay with her.

With no idea what Shaw was so nervous about, Root opted to try and lighten the mood. “Hey Sameen, watch this it's cool.” She took one of the guns in her hand then threw it upwards while flicking her wrist so it spun and hit her on the cheek. “Oof!” She rubbed her cheek and pouted, glaring at the offending object.

Shaw smirked. “Yeah that was cool.”

“Shut up!” laughed Root. She held out the gun for Shaw to take. “Why don't you show me how it's done?”

Shaw plucked the gun out of her fingers and set it back in the cabinet (in the wrong place, but Root moved it back to where it should be without commenting). “I’d love to, but we need to talk about this...thing that’s going on. Between us.”

“You mean the ‘thing’ where you take down bad guys and I fail at pretending I don't find it hot?”

“Yeah.” Shaw clasped and unclasped her hands, looking down at her feet. “The thing where I cycle the whole way across New York and pretend it was for the mission.”

Apparently Root’s subconscious couldn't make up its mind about what emotion was suitable for the occasion so her stomach was tying itself in knots whilst her heart was fluttering with excitement. But she tried to keep her exterior neutral so she wouldn't ruin their conversation. Sameen was clearly finding it difficult enough already, and Root couldn't quite believe she had actually decided to approach this topic. “What about it?”

“There is definitely something between us so I don't know if you would be interested in more...physical explorations of this thing, whatever it is.”

“Like making out?” Root asked matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, and...other...stuff.”

Root tilted her head to the side. “I would love to kiss you, Sweetie - and something tells me you will be very good at it - but anything more than that is...no.”

“Not ever?” From Shaw’s direct nature, Root could tell she didn't mind and was asking because she needed to know the score and not because she had a problem with it.

Root shook her head and watched Shaw carefully, noticing her almost-imperceptible ‘I acknowledge this’ nod. Shaw was not one for displaying her thoughts and feelings, but Root was adept at reading her microexpressions.

“Miss Groves and Miss Shaw?” Harold’s voice came through their earpieces. “I’m afraid I am going to require your assistance quite urgently.”

*

“You know, I’m not tired.” Shaw emerged from the bedroom and Root turned to face her, back against the cabinet. “It’s hard to imagine both of us making it out of this in one piece.”

Root raised her eyebrows and gave a half shrug, her eyes already on Shaw’s lips. “Be a hell of a way to go.”

She pushed herself off the cabinet and was caught by Shaw, who ran her hands up Root’s upper arms then held her face. Root put one hand on the back of Shaw’s neck and roughly pulled her in for a kiss.

It was hot and desperate and the pair of them fell onto the sofa. Shaw had one hand in Root’s hair and the other on the small of her back, caressing Root’s tongue with her own.

Root was effectively laid in top of Shaw, one elbow propping her up on the sofa and her other hand on Shaw’s cheek, stroking her jawline with her thumb.

“You know,” said Root breathlessly between kisses. “You should. Really. Sleep.”

Shaw smirked up at her. “Still not tired.” Then she moved her hands to the buttons of Root’s shirt and, after pausing to let Root nod that it was OK, pulled it open.

It was discarded on the floor closely followed by Shaw’s shirt. They carried on kissing until Shaw pulled away to yawn, which juxtaposed her insistence that she wasn't tired. Root refused to carry on, claiming that she knows Shaw runs on caffeine and rage, but anybody who had just been tortured for ten months would need sleep. It was only reasonable, and she would be right there with her the whole time.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise I’ll be here when you wake up,” whispered Root.

“Well yeah, you are laid on top of me.”

“We could always move to the bedroom,” Root said.

“No. Let's stay here.”

Root pressed herself against the back of the sofa with her front against Shaw’s side. They stayed there, bodies touching, while Shaw rolled over onto her stomach and folded her hands under her chin.

Root gently ran her fingers over the patches of scar tissue on Shaw’s back. “I already wanted to tear Samaritan apart, turn it into an Atari. But that’s too nice: it scarred my beautiful girl. Maybe a Casio.”

Shaw turned her head so she could look at Root. Her gaze was soft and fond, the most content Root had ever seen her. “All the scars are from before when I worked the relevant numbers with the ISA. Samaritan’s torture was more psychological.”

“And you never broke.” Root absentmindedly rubbed the stapedectomy scar behind her ear until Shaw pushed her hand out of the way. 

*

“You’d better be crying because of those onions.”

“Good morning Sameen.” Root used her knife to scrape the pieces of chopped onion into the pot on the stove. Without turning around she said, “I thought you were asleep.”

Shaw wrapped her arms around Root’s waist affectionately, making sure to stay on the side of her good ear. “I was until I woke up.”

Root let out a small tearful laugh and went to begin chopping a carrot, but Shaw placed a hand over hers and forced her to abort the movement.

“Don't try chopping while you're all teary,” Shaw said. “You'll lose a finger.” She took over and speedily sliced the carrot, threw away the top and emptied the chopping board into the pot. “You gonna tell me what you're upset about?”

“I feel like I’m trapping you in a relationship with me,” said Root in a monotone. Once she'd put it out in the open she began to cry again and bit her bottom lip.

Shaw reached up and wiped away one of Root’s tears with her thumb. “Because you don't want sex?”

“Mmhm.” Root nodded like a bobblehead, wringing her hands. “You can have sex with other people if you want, I won't mind. Go to a bar and meet a nice man-”

“Root, stop. I don't mind if you don't want to have sex and I certainly wouldn't want to go do it with some random stranger.”

“Really?” asked Root in a small, pathetic voice.

“Yes really, you loser. You keep telling me about how all the feelings I lack make me beautiful, why is it so hard for you to believe I feel the same way about you?”

“Well when you put it like that…”

Shaw nodded firmly. “Damn right. Now is there anything else you have been angsting about in private?”

“No,” replied Root. “And thou?”

“No. And if I ever catch you thinking something like that again I will actually kick your ass.” She held up a finger in mock-warning. “Don't test me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, Sameen.” Then, quieter, “Thank you.”


End file.
